There was a quip about being saddled with laundry for the rest of his life since he had no intention on bein' a gonk, but he chose to let it die in his mouth. Even V knew how to read a room. Usually, at least. It'd been a hot minute since he was this kid's age. V realized he was still between him and the door and slowly moved so that he was not blocking him should he want to make a quick exit.

"It would be a waste of money."

V set the kitten down on the floor so it could walk around, then leaned against the wall and started pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows; metal in his arms complimenting the metal on his face and down the front of his throat.

"Gotta say, not a big fan of endin' up here and not havin' my own clothes. This all feels..." A hesitation as he waffled for a word. "...shoddy." His own patch jobs felt stronger than this, though the difference in material was likely to blame. "Or havin'... really any of my things." He was glad to have Johnny's gun, sure, but he'd really rather just have his phone.

He started to cross his arms but caught himself, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie instead to try not to appear as threatening. For the most part his attention was on the kid, but occasionally he'd look at the kitten just to be sure.